Back to the Beginning
by MagicallyNormal
Summary: Now that it's over, it might be nice to go back to the beginning. Placed at the beginning, at one of our first viewings of Harry and his new family, the Dursleys. No spoilers. Oneshot


A/N: Now that it's all over I figured we should go back and look at the past. This is my own story, I based when Petunia first saw Harry on her doorstep and basicall went on from there. I just think we should remember the good times. And no, this does not give any clue to the end of the 7th book, even though I did finish it.

**_Back to the Beginning_**

Mrs. Petunia Dursley of Number 4 Privet Drive was simply going to put out the milk bottles. It was a thing that she always did and she expected nothing but the bitter cold of morning to bite at her face. What she saw though, made her scream with shock and terror.

A child! A child that was now wide-awake and crying, tears pouring down its pink cheeks. It was wrapped snuggly in a blanket, with what looked like a tiny lighting bolt shaped scar on his forehead.

"Vernon!" She shrieked, running back into the house, door still wide open for the world to see her spotless home. Mr. Dursley soon rushed from the comfort and warmth of his bed to find his wife pale-faced and leaning a kitchen chair for support.

"What is it, dear?" He asked. She could only point to the front door, her breaths coming in shaky gasps. When he saw the child he realized what she was so frightened about. As it quieted down, you could see that the child had the greenest eyes and black hair on the top of its head. Who ever his wife saw on the street with those features she usually turned and walked away, remembering her horrible sister or that despicable Potter. Now, this child looked the very essence of them both.

He picked up the child and placed it on the table in disgust. If it was the offspring of those terrible people, he'd rather not be associated with it. A letter fell from the blanket and Petunia at once grabbed it up.

She read it twice before looking back at her husband, face paler than before, "He's theirs, those dreadful Potters' child." She said with both disgust and terror.

"Then they can have him back!"

"Vernon, they're dead. Those awful people say that we must care for the child. They say that we showed no love for my sister and her _family _and now we must make up for it by caring for their child." She seemed more upset at the thought of having to care for the small child than of her sister's tragic death.

"No!" Vernon roared, "I will not have one of them living in my house!"

Petunia calmed him by putting an hand on his shoulder, "Vernon we must. They tell us that we must raise it as our own."

"What did they tell you?" He asked, fearing that they had threatened his wife. But she shook her head and frowned.

"It was nothing important. But we must keep the child, I don't…" The rest of her words were drowned out by Dudley's loud cry. She rushed away to get her own child, leaving Vernon with the emerald eyed child on the table. He would have to take the child in as his own. No, just make sure it didn't die. How would they know if he wasn't treating the child as his son?

**10 years later**

The child, named Harry by his parents, grew into a skinny boy with glasses. His emerald eyes didn't change with the times, his hair was still black as the night. But he had something more. Something that made him different. He heard it everyday from his relatives.

The cupboard was Harry's room….no...Harry's prison. While Dudley was able to go out and play with his friends, Harry was kept in here. In his younger years he had made friends, but the strange occurrences that went on around him always spooked the other children's parents. But Harry was popular among his class at first, well, until Dudley learned that hurting children made them easy to persuade.

Harry remembered asking why he was stuck in his cupboard and not allowed to go out and play. His Aunt Petunia answered that quickly and easily.

"The rest of the kids don't want to play with you. You're different." In a way she was right. He was the only kid whose cousin threatened the other kids so they wouldn't play with him. He was the only kid who sat alone at lunch, with hardly anything to eat. He was the only kid, in his own thoughts, that was this lonely.

Now he was nearing his eleventh birthday. Having been convinced that he was a terrible child. Having been convinced that he was different. Having been convinced that he deserved every punishment that they threw at him.

It seemed only magic could get him out of such a terrible home.

A/N: Yep, basically the end was me blathering on, but I hope you liked it. I was just planning on making this a one-shot, but I might write a bit about the last book or something like that as another chapter. So review and tell me what you thought of it!


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